


Keeper

by rotrude



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crushes, Football, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 23:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12143856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/pseuds/rotrude
Summary: Merlin enrolls in a minor league football team. Arthur Pendragon is their striker, their ace. Yet when Merlin joins, Arthur's behaviour changes. Merlin has no idea what to do with the quandary that is suddenly on his hands.





	Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta, ji_ang, for looking over the fic, improving my grammar and clarifying some of football finer and less fine points. All remaining mistakes, whether SpaG or sports related, are mine.
> 
> Inspired by an account that's part of the permanent exhibition at Zagreb's Museum of Broken Relationships.

“Please, give me a try,” Merlin begged Coach Alator. “It's true I haven't played in a while--” Two years was long when it came to sports, Merlin was painfully aware, yet it wasn't as though he was trying to make it onto a pro team“--but I really want back into it.”

“Football is a passion for life.” Alator fiddled with his whistle. “I'm not sure I can take you on.”

Not sure, Merlin thought, didn't equal a categorical refusal. It meant Merlin could still try. “Let me show you what I can do.” He was still limber enough. “Let me try.”

Alator looked him up and down as if he were trying to evaluate Merlin's general level of fitness on the basis of how he looked. “Okay, I'll give you a chance. Let's try you out against our best boys.” Alator signalled to the team members, who'd already begun drills, to move closer. “Boys,” he told those who gathered around him, “Emrys here would like to try his hand at goal keeping. Don't give him an easy time of it. Let's see how he saves shots.”

Merlin put on the gloves he'd brought with him in case he got a chance to play. 

One of the players, a bearded bloke whose ginger hair was held back by a team headband, said, “Don't let Arthur kick any.” He looked at a blond, broad-chested guy, who was preening with the praise. “He's our best man. It wouldn't be fair on the new man.”

“Leon is right,” one of the other team members said.

Merlin wanted to say that he was ready to save any goals, no matter who kicked, but he held his breath. No one would be persuaded and he'd be better off showing them his chops than trying to convince them of them. Fairly confident he could manage, he took his place between the posts.

Receiving a through-pass from Arthur, Leon took control of the ball in front of him and kicked it. Because of Leon's body movements, Merlin already knew in which direction he'd aim; he dove, the ball landing safely in his hands. The next to try Merlin's skills was a dark haired, green eyed player who put the ball on the ground, looked at the goal posts as if he were trying them on for size, and kicked. He'd gone for a penalty, the bastard. Merlin dove to push the ball wide, right of the post, and it went bouncing off into the distance. The last player started further back, past the penalty arc; after receiving a pass, he bulletted the ball forward. Merlin knew he had to step out of the six-yard box to get that one, so he did. Extending his whole body, he fended the ball off. It landed behind the goal line, but to the left of the goal itself.

Two team members clapped at that; Alator scratched his chin. “Okay, Mordred, try again. Another one of your penalties, if you please.” 

Mordred, the green eyed guy from before, strutted to the penalty spot. He agonised over the placement of the ball, then, when he was finally content with it, he hit it with the back of his sole. The ball flew fast, moving towards the left side of the net. Merlin pushed off his feet and darted towards the ball. He deflected it with his palm.

“I've seen enough.” Alator clapped his hands together. “I'll take you on, Emrys, but you're on probation. One silly mistake, one oversight, and you're out.”

Merlin couldn't stop himself from beaming. “Thank you, Coach.”

To celebrate Merlin joining, the whole team went to the pub for a pint. The waitress seemed to know the team, because she waved at some of its members. “I'll be round in a few secs, Elyan,” she called out before she went to serve another group of people.

“Sooner rather than later, Gwen,” Elyan hollered back as the others took their seats round the table.

Leon took the central one, with Merlin, as the newbie, getting the corner trestle. Once they were all in place, Merlin found himself facing Arthur. 

Gwen came round and they put in their orders. She was curly-haired and petite, with expressive brown eyes.

“Finally serving me hand and foot, as you should have since childhood,” Elyan teased her. 

Wrinkling her nose, Gwen gave him two fingers. “Dream on.”

As Gwen went away to fetch their orders, they all started talking, more or less at the same time. It was Leon's question that made it to Merlin the most clearly. “So, Merlin, what do you do by day when you're not trying to kick ball?”

“I'm a computer programmer,” Merlin said. “When I got the job, I quit sports. But now, I'm settled. I even got a promotion, so I think I can cut out some time for myself.”

“Arthur and I--,” Leon patted his chest with his fist, “--are corporate lawyers. Elyan is a comic book artist. Mordred--” He pointed at each of the boys in turn. “Mordred works in retail at M&S, and Ranulf over there is a teacher...”The list went on, and Merlin failed to keep track of all of them.

As the beer flowed, so did the conversation. Leon did an impression of his superiors--stuffy, top-tier solicitors-- that cracked them all up. The other lads put in their own impressions and, by the time the third beer came around, they were all laughing. There were exceptions, of course. Arthur passed because Leon had already done his job for him. When the others insisted, he kept his lips quirked and wouldn't say a word, though he looked at Merlin a lot. Like him, Mordred refused to play, too. He said his bosses were so mean it was no fun to caricature them. “Arthur is right in not doing it. Better to take the high road, as he does.”

“I wasn't taking the high road,” Arthur said, slowly sipping at his beer. “Leon did a good job. There was nothing more for me to contribute.”

“But still,” Mordred toasted Arthur, “it makes a difference. Don't sell yourself short.”

Elyan looked to Leon. Leon coughed in his fist and reddened. Ranulf let out a little laugh he suppressed quickly.

A fourth player came to the rescue. “Who did you play for before, Merlin?”

“The Camden Town Football club and the Gwynedd League when I was back home.” Those had been good times. Merlin had never dreamt he'd become a pro, but he'd had a blast. “That one was a long time ago.”

“You still play well.” Leon smiled at him, then he rose to his feet and, tankard in the air, said, “Let's welcome Merlin to the VCD team.”

 

**** 

In preparation for the match to be played at the end of the month, Merlin trained all week with the team. He played as keeper, but also took part in all the workout sessions and in conditioning games, which focused on ball possession and man-to-man marking.

While the other players gave him an easy time, as if they wanted him to acclimatise, Mordred attacked him with a vengeance, especially in ball possession drills. A cold light shone in his eyes whenever he tackled Merlin; he went down on him hard and one time even downed him in a move that, during a match, would have been deemed a foul. Leon picked Merlin up that time, with Arthur watching intently from the sidelines.

From that moment on, Merlin learnt to avoid Mordred as much as possible. He was here to have fun and to stop being as sedentary as he'd been of late, not to get some broken bones in return.

Their first match was against Dulwitch Hamlet. As their newbie goalie, Merlin sat it out for the most part and watched from the bench as match unfolded. 

At one point, Arthur broke away down the left and caught a pass, with Leon trying to get into the box, but he was stopped by their rival's number eight. Arthur stayed undaunted, though, and attacked again, causing disruption in Dulwich's defence. He headed over, shot, but the ball bounced off the crossbar. After a lull in the game, Arthur got the ball rolling again. He was often the lone man up top, dribbling and slaloming till he got in the goal box. On one occasion, he got within fifteen yards of it. Defenders swarmed him, but Arthur just toe poked the ball and scored. 

After that Arthur was on fire. His behaviour and stance changed. His shoulders broadened, the smile on his face widened, he moved faster. Everyone on the team realised he was primed to do great things. Even Merlin felt it from the sidelines, tightening his fists as he murmured encouragement under his breath. Making use of the opportunity Arthur's playing opened up, Leon turned and passed for Mordred, who fed Arthur. As the rival keeper dove, Arthur chipped the ball over him and put VCD up two-nil. 

Dulwich really stepped it up in the second half and scored two good goals. The morale at VCD didn't plummet, though. Arthur kept seeking goal opportunities, and though the defenders kept up their hard work, he didn't let himself get discouraged. Ranulf put in a cross that was just just too high for Arthur. But, undaunted, they started again with Ranulf going clear to the byline and preparing a cutback for Arthur that allowed him to shoot right into the net. 

By the time the coach let Merlin play, the match was well and truly won, and almost over to boot. Whatever he did would make no difference. Still, that didn't mean Merlin didn't want to showcase his skills. Because he did. He wanted to make his team proud. So he was alert all the time he was between the posts. He watched all the midfield action and was the first to notice the rival striker streak away towards the penalty arc, clean through, all on his own, and kick. Instinct told Merlin to plunge left. So he did and blocked. 

The match ended a minute and a half later. When he realised it was over and that they had won, Arthur took off his shirt and ran around. The others gathered round him in a circle, and hugged him, with the outliers of the circle jumping on each others' shoulders. Merlin didn't mingle. He didn't belong yet and he had done little to contribute, but he watched with a smile on his face as the others feted Arthur. Though he was in the midst of the melee, Arthur saw him. He was beaming, fending off the others, who were ruffling his hair and back slapping him to kingdom come; but he spared a glance for Merlin.

They celebrated at the pub, having beers at the booths. They sang songs and horseplayed, had a game of darts and chatted around. Two team members congratulated Merlin on his save, welcoming him to the team more properly than the first time around. After those two had started it, everybody came up to him with a handshake and a good word barring Arthur, who looked at him but didn't say anything.

Wanting to make friends with all the members, Merlin smiled at him. It came easily. Arthur had practically singlehandedly won them the match with his inventive scoring. Besides he seemed nice, if a touch quiet. Arthur, however, didn't return the smile. When he noticed Merlin was grinning his way, he ducked his head and stared into his beer.

Mordred, who noticed, gave Merlin a smirk. 

Merlin didn't have the slightest idea why this was happening and decided not to mind. He was the new one on the team and didn't know its dynamics. Maybe he'd made a faux pas. He would learn them with time. In the meanwhile, it seemed important to try not to make any more missteps.

So he turned around and took part in the next toast.

 

**** 

Even with a victory in their track record, the team needed to train, so they had warm up sessions in the days following the match. These were pretty light, especially on the day after their win, and therefore easy on Merlin, who still wasn't used to this level of intensity. They had one-on-one matchups. Merlin got paired with Ranulf, who was pretty light of foot, but not like Arthur, who kept control of the ball all the time. In fact, Mordred was on Arthur the whole time, but he still couldn't get the upper hand. Though Merlin would have loved to have a one-on-one with Arthur, his dignity would probably not have survived intact.

They played a scrimmage, eleven vs eleven, Merlin with the reserves. The reserves were mostly new and untried, so they had little chance when pitted against the first team. They all new Ranulf was an excellent midfielder, equalled by few, and Arthur was such a good striker that any goalie would have a hard time saving his thrusts.

Still, Merlin meant to be at his best, to give it his all. They'd allowed him on the team after years of down time, it was their due.

At first, the match was slow paced. The action took place around the midfield with both sides indulging in short passes. The second half resembled more of an actual game, with attempts made on the goal from both sides, but with most passes being in Mordred and Arthur's favour.

At one point, Ranulf weaved through the midfield and set Arthur up to score. No matter how hard the reserve defenders were working, Arthur got in front of the goal. He had the ball and was in prime position. He looked up at Merlin, who was priming himself for a save, hesitated for a second, during which he held Merlin's gaze, then shot. 

Merlin had been expecting a powerful shot, but the ball moved softly forward, as though there was no power to the kick. He stopped it with the palms of his hands. 

The game continued. The first team were quick to get behind the ball when they lost control of it. The reserves seemed less dead set on retaining possession, but there were attempts to get the ball, most of them quashed by the first team. Arthur was the most active of all. He went down to the right, signalling he was free for a pass, but Mordred came clanking across, got the ball, and fired. The shot was so fierce, Merlin couldn't get it. Arthur's turn came again. Players closed in on him, but he managed to free himself. He put his head down and charged forward. One defender was directly in his path. Arthur stepped over. It was a quick, masterful move. He was close to the goal. There was nothing for him but to shoot, so Merlin bounced on his feet, preparing to dive. But, once again, Arthur stopped in the middle of an action, threw a look at Merlin, and froze. He didn't move. He didn't pass. He just stood there, looking. It wasn't for long. It couldn't possibly be because two defenders were coming for him, but it was enough to weaken his shot when it came. The ball rolled right into Merlin's hands. 

In the final minutes, Arthur redeemed himself: he stole the ball from one of the reserve strikers and passed it to Mordred, who fired viciously and at cross angles. The ball spun through the air as Merlin jumped for it. It went higher and higher, and Merlin stretched out his fingertips to get it, but it was ultimately stopped by the back of the net. Merlin had failed to save it, but he had done all he could. The game ended a couple of minutes after that.

Though the reserves lost, it might have been much worse. Merlin called himself satisfied with his own performance, though he wondered at Arthur's. He had been great at getting the ball and keeping it once he got it, but the moment he had to fire into the net, something happened and he flubbed it.

Even the Coach noticed it, asking him, “Feeling off sorts, Arthur?”

Rubbing at his scalp, Arthur looked to the ground. “Must have the flu, Coach.”

Despite this, Arthur came out with the others to the pub and feted the win of the first team just as if it had been a regular match. He complimented Mordred over his goal and Mordred smiled a complacent smile over that. He didn't come close to Merlin, though Merlin wanted to ask him if he was all right, and though Merlin had the feeling he was being observed, Arthur kept his head in his glass. 

Merlin suspected Arthur felt awkward at having had his shots saved by a newbie. He must think it the stuff of nightmares. Merlin found it embarrassing, too; clearly, Arthur thought Merlin that much below him. Still, he wanted to do something to address this. They were on the same team; bad blood would only make things harder on themselves and the other players. Besides, there was something about Arthur, call it a 'golden boy' aura, that really drew Merlin in. Arthur had this magnetism about it that interested him. Approaching him was no chore. “Don't take it bad. You had an off day. I'm sure normally I wouldn't be able to save when you kicked.”

“I--” Arthur said, eyes bulging just a little at being addressed. “As I said--,” he swallowed, “--I'm feeling a bit off.”

“You don't look peaky.” Merlin studied Arthur close. He looked the picture of health, his body strong and powerful, his freshly showered hair shining. “You look a bit red in the face, in fact.”

Arthur didn't take his gaze off Merlin, but he rubbed at his nape. “Yeah, that's...mmm... how it affects me.”

“Shouldn't you have some down time?” Merlin hoped nothing was the matter with Arthur. He was a nice bloke and a model sportsman. “If you talk to the Coach, he'll let you sit out the next match.”

Arthur stiffened. “There won't be a problem come the next match.”

Merlin had stepped in it. He'd gone and alienated Arthur. It was too bad because he wanted to be his friend. He wished he could get closer to him. This didn't help at all. “I didn't mean you wouldn't be on your best form next time. I know you will. I know you're the team's best player.”

Arthur stood stock still for a few seconds, taking in what Merlin had just said, then he smiled, wide and honest. It didn't last long; it looked as though he'd bitten his cheeks so as not to, but the short while it lasted it had warmed Merlin. As soon as the smile faded, he started shifting from foot to foot. “I-- I've been training a long time for that. So, thank you.”

“Did you play as a kid?” Merlin asked, finding an in, a way to talk to Arthur. 

“Yes. Yes, I did.” Arthur looked beyond Merlin, at the people milling about in the distance. “Since I was five.”

“I started as a teen.” Merlin clearly remembered his school councillors advising he join his peers in some activities so that he wouldn't be isolated. As an only son, Merlin had been on the lonely side prior to that. Though the start had been rocky, football had helped. Merlin was grateful. “I took to it in time. I think I'd have been better if I'd begun earlier.”

“Football's my passion,” Arthur said. He crossed Merlin's gaze, pinked up further and looked away.

“I can see that.” That passion, Merlin had seen, made itself explicit every time Arthur was on the pitch. “You've got an innate talent most of us haven't got.”

Arthur's cheeks went particularly red at that point. Since he'd been sporting a flush before, he now looked a bit like a tomato. Mouth opening and closing as he looked for a rejoinder, he straightened, took his gaze to the middle distance, seemed to focus on something and said, “I've got to go... over there, to, uh, go.”

Taking off like the Road Runner, Arthur soon disappeared from view.

For the rest of the week, Merlin barely interacted with him.

 

***** 

During the next week, the team took part in another game. This time they were pitted against Hendon, which was rumoured to be a tough rival. 

In the first half, nothing much happened. Merlin watched from the bench and felt alternately relieved that no serious action was taking place while he wasn't there and dismayed that VCD wasn't doing better. But it was a strategy game based on weighing the opponent and keeping it at bay. He could understand the sluggishness even though he had been hoping for more. The second half was much better. Two goals carried VCD a 2-0 advantage.  


Capitalizing on an error from Hendon's number 17, Arthur scored a clean goal from the outer centre circle. Ten minutes later, Ranulf set up Arthur again with a no-look assist. Arthur caught the ball on the fly and shot. It was another clean goal.  


Arthur had saved the game once again, but the same didn't happen in their mock games. When they rolled around, Merlin was again assigned the role of reserves' keeper and Arthur again served him shots that he could easily save. They were weak, predictable, and sometimes badly angled. Merlin had scarcely to put in any effort.

He was failing to understand what was going on. Arthur was brilliant on the pitch. He could carve out goal opportunities out of thin air. He was relentless in pursuing them and clever in avoiding the defence's action. But during mock games, all of that evaporated. Arthur was still good at assists and retaining ball possession, but when it came to kicking that ball in the net, the magic didn't happen.

Mordred made up for it with intense game play. He continually attacked, bringing the ball into the other side of centre, trying for a goal that would give the first team the advantage. Once, he got so close to the goal that he was between the posts, over Merlin's prone body. To push the ball into the net, he kicked right above Merlin's head, catching his ear as he moved. 

The pain in Merlin's temple bloomed suddenly, but he still didn't let go of the ball. It was a hard save, but it was a save. The mock match ended on that note, with Mordred playing wildly and Arthur shoddily.

“I want to book you a GP appointment, Arthur,” coach said. “I don't like this.”

Arthur widened his eyes. “I'm fit. I'll do well next time. No need for a doctor.”

“You're our best scorer.” Coach stuck out his chest. “I'm not letting that go unchecked.”

Arthur's shoulders collapsed, but he seemed to accept his fate.

 

***** 

Merlin turned the shower off and stepped out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his middle. He walked to the changing rooms on his way to his locker. Walls of them bordered his path, leading up to a wall of mirrors. Merlin hadn't yet cleared the first line when he heard voices. He couldn't see who they belonged to because a row of lockers barred them from view.

“Arthur, really, what's up with you?” It sounded like Leon.

A locker fell shut. “Nothing is.”

“Oh, come on,” Leon said, padding around, the soles of his feet slapping on the floor. “You do well in regular matches, but when there are mock games, you lose it. What's with that?”

“Nothing.” Arthur sounded strained, his voice dry. “Don't I help win real games?”

“But something was off today.” Leon's voice came again. “I can tell, Arthur. I can tell.”

There was a pause while the two didn't speak. Merlin wanted to make it known to them that he was there. The conversation was taking a private turn. But then, Arthur said, “It's not something to worry about, all right? It's Merlin.”

At that point, Merlin couldn't just happen on the conversation without it being awkward. He could step forward and say, 'Hi hello, I'm the cause of your flubbing,' but he had a notion he'd be considered an eavesdropper.

He couldn't just walk out, and half naked as he was there was little he could do. So he bolted back, dropped his towel, stepped into a shower and flipped the tap. Water came cascading over him, a touch too cold, deafening him to everything going on outside the curtain. 

It didn't mean that Merlin wasn't thinking about the conversation, because he totally was, but at least he couldn't hear what Arthur had to say about him. It was sure to be bad news. You didn't put someone in connection with your failures unless you hated their guts. It made sense. Arthur scarcely talked to him and when he did, he cut it short and fled. Merlin didn't know how this made him feel. Not stoked, that was for sure. A strange malaise overtook him and it made him feel ill at ease with himself. That coupled with the cold made for a strange mix of sensations. Before long, he cut off the water jet and warmed himself. Thankfully, he seemed to be alone, though that did little to calm his misgivings over what he'd overheard. He wished he hadn't heard anything at all.

 

*****  
Over the next month, the situation didn't improve or change. Arthur kept scoring during regular matches and he kept messing up simple mock games. Mordred tried to make up for it in viciousness and always went for Merlin when he could, sometimes even off the pitch. Everybody had noticed this, and a few remarked on it, but no one knew why it was. Except for Merlin, who knew the reason:Arthur disliked him so much that took a toll on his performance.

Merlin wondered whether this had happened because of something Merlin had inadvertently done, or if it was just because Arthur was prone to developing such grudges. Either way, he knew he had to do something. While this wasn't affecting the team as a whole, it was certainly having an effect on Arthur himself. Yes, Merlin would act. 

Merlin was counting reps while sitting on the leg press machine when Arthur took possession of the adjacent leg extension. 

This was exactly the opportunity Merlin had been looking for. No one else was around in this part of the club gym, so they had privacy and the task at hand wasn't so important Merlin couldn't interrupt it. 

“I know,” Merlin said, as he see sawed on the leg press. It helped keep his focus on something that wasn't his current stab at making a fool of himself. “We can talk about it.”

Weights shifting in the machine, Arthur extended his legs, then froze in position. He pinked up and let his mouth slide slowly open. He recovered soon enough, slowly lowering his legs back against the chair, weights clanking into their starting position. “You know how I feel?”

“Yes!” The awkwardness made Merlin's skin prickle and heat. But he forged ahead. He had to speak up. These animosities didn't foster good team work, and Merlin had always prided himself on getting along with most people. At least those who weren't arseholes. “And I get it, but I think we should move past it.”

Before turning his head towards Merlin, Arthur swallowed hard. “Move past it?”

“Yes.” Merlin was trying to be more optimistic than he felt here. He knew that dislikes such as Arthur's were hard to overcome. But perhaps if Arthur saw him for what he was – not that Merlin thought that he was all that – they could build a different relationship. Come to trust each other. “I think we can.”

Arthur shook his head. “I don't think I can. Believe me, I've tried. But it won't be overcome.”

Merlin's hopes dashed themselves against the shoals of Arthur's words. He was surprised to find the notion broke his heart a little. Not just because he enjoyed being on good terms with people in general, but because Arthur was a fine sort of person. He was handsome, an ace at football, and seemed likable--at least when he wasn't around Merlin. Merlin would have really liked more from him, but it didn't seem possible now. “Oh.”

His back straightening, his chest filling, Arthur angled himself sideways on the leg extension machine so he was facing Merlin more fully. “Since you know about it, it would be low of me not to admit it. Given that it's distasteful to you though, I'll do my best not to mention it at all.”

That way things might work out. If they didn't dwell on Arthur's dislike for Merlin, they might get on. The peace might be superficial, but they had to be content with that. If Arthur was so sure he could never grow to like Merlin, then they had to be. “I'd still love it if we could, you know, talk about it.” If Arthur could put up with Merlin for long enough. “So I could help you get over it.”

Arthur laughed a bitter sounding laugh. “You think it can be so easy.” He made a gesture of denial. “It won't. I know myself. My feelings take a lot to be swayed, but once they are...”

Merlin felt tears nearly prickle his eyes. This was too bad. There had to be a way out. “We could try!”

“As much as you'd try, you could never make me stop liking you!” Arthur's voice rose with the delivery of that sentence just before going hoarse all of a sudden. “I don't work like that.”

Merlin's ears were ringing. His brain had short circuited. He thought he hadn't heard correctly, but then again his hearing was fine and there was no way those few words could be misconstrued. “You like me?”

Arthur thrust his jaw out. “I've had a crush on you since the first day. I thought it would simmer. But it didn't. It pervaded my thoughts. It's affected my performance. It hasn't let go.”

Merlin's heart soared, a smile came on his lips.

“I understand, it's laughable.” Arthur lowered his eyes. “I'm a grown man and I barely spoke two words to you. But I see you around. You're a committed keeper and you're nice to all around. I can't help it.”

“No, it's not laughable.” Not that Merlin meant that having a crush on him was run of the mill and what everybody should do. He was not that vain. “I mean feelings are feelings, aren't they?”

Arthur read his face attentively. “You don't need to be nice just because I love you. I understand if you're put out.” Arthur pushed off the machine and stood. “Now, I'll stop bothering you.”

Merlin started off his perch on the leg press, and grabbed Arthur by the arm. “Look, don't go.”

“I want no charity.” Arthur squared his face so that his expressions closed off. 

Arthur was apparently quite stubborn when entrenched in a thought. Merlin was aware of no way to make him see the truth other than incontrovertible action. Stepping closer, he put a kiss to Arthur's lips. It wasn't soft – he was too off balance for that – and it wasn't elegant, but it was so honestly meant that Merlin's heart beat faster. “Ask me on a date.”

Arthur's eyes bulged a little. “I, uh, what?”

“I said--” Arthur's reaction was making Merlin deflate a little. Still, he'd come this far, he probably should go all the way. “Ask me on a date.”

“So you like me too?” A smile slowly unfurled on Arthur's lips. 

“I thought I made that clear when I kissed you.” Merlin had been as explicit as he knew how. If Arthur had failed to catch that, Merlin really didn't know what to do with him. “Should I--”

Arthur's mouth caught his. He held the kiss for long seconds then moved his mouth to the corners of Merlin's lips before centring them again and pushing his tongue in. “Go out with me.”

Breath coming a little short, Merlin said. “You bet I will.”

Merlin had scored big time.

The End


End file.
